Coming Back To You
by therewasnothief
Summary: Jane/Lisbon. Set after 6x08 (when it airs). Jane has finally killed the elusive Red John, but Lisbon is caught up in the aftermath. What will she do when she finds Jane? Contains flashbacks to 1x09. Inspired by a prompt from tumblr user [gordongordon]!


Jane/Lisbon angst. Set after 6x08 when Jane kills Red John.

This story was written based on a prompt from tumblr user _gordongordon_. I hope you like the final product!

Flashbacks are from episode 1x09, 'Flame Red'. Song lyrics are from 'Coming Back To You' by Battleships. Enjoy! :)

* * *

_close your eyes, close your eyes  
count to ten and it will be alright_

_say goodbye, say goodbye  
as we try to stem the flow of time_

* * *

Jane closed his eyes for a long moment.

"Inhale, exhale," he murmured.

As his lungs expanded again, Jane felt the weight of a thousand questions relinquish their hold on him. Fate – or as some would call it, destiny – had decided that today, the self-assured, guilt-ridden mentalist would achieve his desire for redemption.

It was a beautiful reward and Jane thanked his lucky stars, rolling his eyes at the very concept immediately afterwards. His eyes were dilated with adrenaline as he slowly turned the knife in his hands. With a deep breath, Jane pressed it down, producing a satisfying sound as it sliced into the raw flesh beneath his fingertips.

"Good, good," he murmured, watching Red John writher and pour streams of crimson into the muddied earth. His last breaths had come slowly, painfully, languished with fear. Jane could not believe the fantasy unravelling before his eyes, and he felt the pride of a goal accomplished.

"Don't be sad, this is good," he frowned. "You held up a fight. Sadly, I played you better."

It had been a decent struggle between them both. After years of playing cat and mouse, littered with 'almost-got-him' casualties in between, Jane had experienced a type of brokenness that could only be healed with this final encounter. False confidence had always been Jane's source of courage, ready to exercise itself in times of danger, but today Jane had befriended a different impulse. It was called blood thirst, and until now Jane had not realised how vengeful it really was.

The promise of vengeance resonated within Jane's conscience as he recalled the faces of countless victims in his mind's eye. He pictured his wife and daughter sleeping soundly in their beds, greeted in the middle of the night by a pair of hands around their necks and the glint of a smiling face above them. Their last living memory was comprised of fear and anguish, and deeply rooted confusion.

Jane could not reverse that nightmare, and for a long time this powerlessness had made him weak. But Jane refused to let his own limitations prevent him from pursuing justice. He had to fulfil the motivation behind his very existence, his decision to continue living in the midst of his breakdown.

Truly, Jane needed revenge more than morality. At the thought of Red John's favourite victims— one married to Jane and one conceived by him— Jane struck the serial killer again, severing his arm to reveal a fresh set of tendons and muscles. Afterwards, Jane sliced each of his fingers clean from their knuckles, saying farewell to the bones that could never strangle or smear an innocent woman's blood again.

A crooked smile formed on Jane's lips. Marking the walls had always been Red John's specialty. Now his body was a human paintbrush on the cold, unforgiving ground.

Setting the knife aside temporarily, Jane marvelled at the power of his adrenaline. He recounted the chase that occurred only twenty minutes earlier when he saw the retreating figure of Red John in the distance.

In that moment, Jane knew that giving up was for foolish men and misguided mourners. Jane was not a fool. He would not let Red John make a mockery of his intellect.

"You are dead," Jane whispered with realisation, picking up handfuls of dirt and pressing them into Red John's wounds. His hands were slippery and warm, staining his wedding ring scarlet.

"And because you are dead, you can't feel a thing. But I can feel everything."

Pausing, Jane rested on his knees. "That," he said, pointing to Red John's amputated limbs, "was for my wife and child. I did a good job, eh? You almost look red with embarrassment."

The sound of Jane's bitter laugh reverberated against the trees surrounding him.

"But tell me, who is this for?"

He positioned the blade at the hollow of the serial killers throat.

"I'm going to cut off your head now, and when I'm done, I am going to destroy your mind. Every thought and desire, every memory, will never hurt this world again."

Voice rasping, Jane extended his hand towards his enemy with finality.

"You see, Red John, this one is for me."

* * *

Lisbon felt her legs ache with every pounding step. She had been running continuously for half an hour and she still could not find Jane in the secluded woods.

Her fists clenched in frustration. Time was running out and she was responsible for the outcome. If she found Jane in time, maybe he would change his mind. She wanted to believe he would.

If not, she would never see him again.

Swallowing hard, Lisbon started running with renewed desperation.

_Wait for me, Jane.  
Please wait for me._

* * *

Hiding the body wasn't a concern for Jane. Everyone knew that Red John was his. His only worry was that the intermittent rain would wash away the pools of blood that looked so rewarding in his field of vision. Justice was a strange victory, bringing out the most primal parts of Jane's being in a rush of emotion and exhilaration. He revelled in it.

The raindrops slid down Jane's eyelids and fell onto his cheeks, settling in the lines around his mouth. Extending his tongue, he tasted the moisture and savoured its freshness.

And then he trembled.

On another day, in what seemed like another life, Jane had spoken to Lisbon about revenge. She had wanted him to abandon his pursuit of it and obey the law, but Jane had been resolute and unyielding. No one could change his mind.

As they stepped into the downpour, his hand had grasped hers with a protective grip. Despite their conflicting thoughts, the pair had laughed and retreated to the car, where Jane waited for her to let him in.

Lisbon had done more than that during their time working together, showing him parts of herself that she was too ashamed to confront on her own. During their last conversation on the phone she sounded particularly wounded, and Jane couldn't help but shut her out. Hearing her plead and beg was too much.

Throughout everything, Lisbon had been the exception to his temptations to bend the truth. He could keep it up for a while, but somehow she always made him come clean.

But maybe she wouldn't find him this time. Maybe—

"Jane, no."

His head snapped up as Lisbon casted her shadow over him.

Stepping towards her former consultant, Lisbon felt the colour drain from her face. Her chest rose and fell in quick, successive breaths. "No," she repeated, hoarser this time.

The once elusive Red John was positioned at Jane's feet, mutilated and dismembered. His head was separate from his body, rolled against a tree stump to her left.

Lisbon tried her best to conceal her horror but as usual, her wide eyes belied her. She had known that Jane was serious about killing Red John and had felt the sincerity of his threats and promises; but never in her wildest dreams did she believe that he possessed the ability to take away Red John's life and torture him even in death.

"Lisbon, I know." Jane stepped towards her, knife in hand. The moonlight glinted against the blade and Lisbon flinched, stepping back.

"Put it down or I'll shoot," Lisbon ordered.

"Now, Lisbon, we both know you wouldn't do that," Jane smirked, trying to lighten the mood.

Lisbon watched as the knife fell from Jane's grip. A shudder ran through her.

"This isn't a joke, Jane. I told you to wait for me. You didn't even care. You just did it alone."

"Look, I know you're upset because you think you could have stopped me—"

"But I didn't," Lisbon yelled, pushing down the lump in her throat. "I should have but I didn't. Goddamn it, Jane!" Her petite body shook without warning and she looked away, feeling her muscles go weak with exhaustion.

Jane's eyes softened as he realised why Lisbon was actually hurting.

"Lisbon, it was never about you," he said hurriedly. "You haven't failed anyone. I couldn't stop myself from killing him. Your presence would have made no difference in the end. The law doesn't phase me, remember?"

Suddenly Lisbon walked forward and punched Jane in the face. His head spun around from the impact, and when he returned to his centre of gravity, Lisbon was waiting for him, seizing his collar with her hands.

"You listen to me," she spat. "There are hundreds of families who would have given anything to have killed Red John. You got him, Jane. Well done. But now I'm faced with a choice._ I am the law_, remember?"

She let him go and stepped away once more, eyes stinging with tears. "Do I arrest you or do I let you walk? What should it be?"

A wave of guilt flooded through Jane and he felt helpless, suddenly realising how conflicted Lisbon was. "No, no, Lisbon. I won't blame you for doing what you need to do. Don't let me stop you."

Lisbon gathered every ounce of strength she possessed and fixed her eyes on Jane's. Her steely resolve was not lost on him and he knew that she had reached the end of her rope.

After all this time, this was it. He didn't give himself the opportunity to mourn for her, knowing that if he did, he would second-guess his earlier actions towards Red John. Regret could never accommodate redemption in his scenario.

"Jane, hold out your arms."

Jane lowered his head and obliged, waiting for the metal cuffs to surround his wrists. A few seconds later, the mentalist began to wonder if he was hallucinating when he felt a wet slip of fabric enclose his hands.

He saw that Lisbon had untucked her shirt and was wiping the blood from his fingers one by one. The rain had soaked her jacket and pants, clinging to her frame and making her look even thinner than she already was. Jane recalled the nights that Lisbon spent tirelessly working, wondering if she ever slept. His answer was right in front of him and it made his heart stop beating momentarily. He ached for her.

After cleaning his hands, Lisbon finally looked up at him. Her dark brown tresses were stuck to her face and Jane wanted to reach out and push them away. His mind went back to that afternoon on the front porch with Lisbon, remembering her flushed cheeks and careful smile in his presence. At the time his heart had swelled with fondness, and underneath that, a steady understanding of her position. Lisbon obeyed the law and would not compromise for him.

With that in mind, her next words floored him.

"Run, Jane," she said quietly, letting go of his wrists and dropping her hands to her sides. She wiped her palms on her damp trousers and straightened her back. "I'll hold off the search party. You need to go now."

Before Lisbon could tell him to run again, Jane pulled his old partner into a tight embrace. He lent his cheek against her hair, losing himself in the beautiful scent of rain and cinnamon. Slowly Lisbon wrapped her arms around him in return, shaking with indescribable sadness. She knew that she would never be able to see him again.

As he withdrew from her, Jane watched Lisbon's eyes return to their trademark guardedness. She loved him but she knew she couldn't trust him, and that's when Jane felt a deep sting of shamefulness. He had promised to be there for her and now he was leaving her behind.

Jane's hand unconsciously travelled towards Lisbon's cheek, tucking wet strands of hair behind her ears. "We don't have much time," Lisbon sighed, looking at him brokenly. "It's too late for this."

Pressing his forehead against hers, Jane breathed deeply. "I'm sorry, Lisbon," he started, voice catching in his throat. "You'll never know how sorry I am."

Jane paused, examining the dark flecks in her emerald eyes. "But I can't leave without saying a proper goodbye."

Before she could reply, Jane pressed his lips against Lisbon's and enveloped her in a tender embrace. He felt the surprise in her response and continued to kiss her, knowing that their lives would never return to the way they were. The monster that had brought them together was now tearing them apart, and when Lisbon pulled back from his caress, every fibre of Jane's being wanted to hold her forever.

A few ragged breaths later and Jane knew that he really did have to run.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, looking at Lisbon once last time. She nodded and kissed his cheek, a sign of affection that Jane never anticipated.

Lisbon placed her palm against his chest. Her lips moved towards his left ear and she pushed him with force. "I know, Jane. Now _run_."

Finally obeying her, Jane fled into the woods.

After an hour of running, he collapsed onto his knees, letting the tears spill down his cheeks without respite. Nothing in his miserable life was certain but one thing:

He would return for Teresa Lisbon someday.

* * *

_inside I can hardly wait  
to be running, and running,  
and running, and running back to you_

_won't let up, won't give in  
__and with you it's the place that my heart is in  
i'm coming back_


End file.
